Who Hates The Beatles?
by floralteacups
Summary: Blaine and Jesse are married with a son, Jack, who's asking some questions that neither of them are sure how to answer.


Blaine watches Jack run around in front of him, the small boy fighting imaginary enemies that are coming down from the trees in Central Park. They're invisible to his fathers, both of who trail behind him, holding hands and watching him fight off his attackers.

Jack's the mirror image of a young Blaine, save for blue eyes and straight hair instead of it being curly. He's slightly tan, having inherited Blaine's olive skin tone. His eyes stand out, the blue bright against his dark features. He runs forward, making sound effects as he defeats the monsters he's making up in his mind.

"Daddy B! Daddy J! Lookit!" he says, climbing onto a rock. His small hands grab onto the cold stone, standing up straight when he gets to the top. Jack smiles, little white teeth gleaming bright. "I won!" He wore a look of extreme pride on his face.

"Of course you did," Jesse says, smiling. He's still holding Blaine's hand, breathing in the fresh fall air. Autumn leaves are falling, the warm toned foiliage collecting in piles that Jack can't help but want to jump into. Blaine thinks they look pretty appealing too.

"Be careful, okay?" Blaine warns, his hazel eyes keeping watch on his son. He and Jesse find a bench and sit down, fingers still laced together. They talk, eyes wandering to make sure Jack's okay.

Somehow Blaine's head ends up in the crook of Jesse's neck, like it always does eventually. He shuts his eyes, his husband's pulse acting as a lullaby playing lightly in his ear. He feels Jesse press a kiss on his forehead, and Blaine smiles.

This is everything he's ever wanted, and he can't believe it actually came to be. He's married to the love of his life, has a job he loves, and he's a dad.

It's perfect.

The two men stay like that for a bit longer, in their own little world, as if they're protected by a glass case.

"...absolutely disgusting."

Two words smash their little case to pieces, a verbal sledge hammer. Blaine opens his eyes and sees a husband and wife (Tourists, probably, he decided. Their accents give it away.) who give them filthy looks, as if they were slaughtering animals to the devil instead of spending a day at the park with their son.

They stay in their position for a moment longer, feeling the stares burn into their backs, white hot with hatred. Blaine clears his throat and sits up straight. He can still feel the stares as he calls out to Jack that it's time to go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Daddy?" Jack asks, sitting in bed that night. Blaine's reading him a story while Jesse tries to get Lucy to fall asleep. She's only a few months old, and they're still getting used to having a girl in the house with them.

"Yeah?" Blaine's just about finished with the story, and he closes the cover, placing it on the bedside table.

"Why were you and Daddy J getting funny looks today by that lady in the park?" Jack scrunched his face in question, not understanding what was the matter.

Blaine sat next to him frozen for a moment, not sure how to respond. He knew that would come up eventually; he and Jesse had talked about it before they'd agreed on having kids. It still took him by surprise nonetheless.

"Well," he started, rubbing the nape of his neck. He pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid answering right away.

Jack looked up at him with innocent big blue eyes, waiting for an answer.

"They didn't like The Beatles," he decides on, nodding his head, more for himself than for Jack. Blaine has been wearing a Beatles shirt that afternoon, so he figured it'd be an acceptable answer for a four year old.

"Oh," Jack says, not really looking all that convinced. He's smart for someone so young, and Blaine knows he doesn't buy it. But that's about all he can think of right now.

"Night, buddy," Blaine says, smiling down at him, kissing his forehead lightly.

"Night, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You told him that people were giving us looks because of your tee shirt?" Jesse asks, taking a sip of his coffee. Jack and Lucy are still asleep, and they're eating their breakfast before the kids get up. It's something they try to do as often as they can, trying to spend some alone time together.

"Yes, I did," he says, swallowing a spoonful of cereal. "I kinda froze. That's not really something I was expecting."

"If you were going to lie you might as well have thought of something better," the older man replied. "Seriously. Who hates The Beatles?"

"That's not the point," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "What was I supposed to say though? 'Oh, they were giving us dirty looks because we're gay and think our family's an abomination?' That would'nt exactly have worked, would it?" He shook his head, disagreeing.

"Blaine, they're going to find out eventually. What's the point of sheltering them? You're just setting them up for disappointment."

"I don't exactly want them to have a spoiled childhood either, you know." Sighing, Blaine sipped his coffee, rubbing his temples. "If they can have _some _faith that the world isn't a shitty place to be, then I'll be glad to give it to them."

Jesse shook his head, putting the newspaper on the other side of the table. "I get that, but you could've explained it a little better, don't you think?"

"It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. Besides, I think Lucy's crying," he said, pushing his chair away and making his way up the stairs to the nursery.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey Jack?" Blaine calls out. He's standing in front of the sink, washing the dishes from that night's dinner. The four year old is coloring on the table, filling an elephant with a crimson red crayon.

"Yes, Daddy?" he turns around, innocent face wide with anticipation.

"You know Daddy and I love each other, right? A lot?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"You know that's all that matters, right?"

"Yes, Daddy." Jack's voice is anxious, wanting to get back to his picture. "Can I color now?"

Blaine looks at his son one more time, and smiles. "Sure thing."


End file.
